I
see her and the two angels, who from my vantage point are infinitely
far away, as if in another, unreachable dimension of existence, and
yet so terribly near, like the sudden adrenalin surge of terror or
excitement that slams your rib cage from the inside.
I
almost felt her heart leap within her at the appearance of these
magnificently radiant, other-worldly creatures, but not because of
who they were, but because of Whom they were not.
“Why
are you weeping?” they asked.
That
these heavenly beings in glowing white robes spoke to her did not
matter.
They
were not Him!
She
would not be distracted from her mission - to see her Lord one last
time. It was the focus of her entire being, and the devotion of her
heart would not let even the Host of Heaven stand in her way.
Her
response was made with understated agony.
"They
have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid Him!"
Since
they gave her no immediate answer, she turned from them. Perhaps she
heard the footsteps of the Man who suddenly approached. Mostly, it
seemed she had little thought for them at all.
They
were not Him!
In
turning she saw Someone who had the appearance of a common day
laborer, a gardener by the looks of Him.
“Why
are you weeping, whom are you seeking?” He asked.
The
unexpectedness of the question struck me. It was either purposely
obtuse or indicative of a profound awareness.
Mary
herself cared about neither, but leapt at the possibility that this
Man might know something of the One she sought.
“Sir,
if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I
will take Him away.”
She
was not large, nor did she appear unusually strong for a woman her
age, but the intensity of her longing was evident. It was clear she
would have done anything to procure a final resting place for the
body of the Man who was life itself to her; even if it meant
transporting the dead weight of a fully grown corpse entirely by
herself.
Nothing
else mattered; not defilement from touching the dead; not the
weakness of her frame; not the improbability of her success. Her
grief-stricken heart knew no other course.
Then
this Man spoke a single word to her.
"Mary."
It
was the Voice of her beloved!
He
spoke her name in that special way reserved just for her, as if she
alone were the only other person in existence. It was the Voice of
Love itself calling out to her as no Other possibly could.
Though
I was mere spectator, my heart soared within me as I shared
vicariously in the utter joy that was hers. The deepest, most intense
longing of her soul was right there before her, against all logic and
odds and probability; an impossible hope beyond all hope fulfilled!
What
an astounding gift of grace and love!
She
was the first, the very first, to see the Risen Lord on the planet He
came to save, and He had called her by name!
"TEACHER!"
she cried and flung herself at His feet, grasping Him with all
her strength, as if to convey that she would never release Him from
her desperately longing arms again.
I
did not see His face at any time during this encounter, and
especially at that moment, as He gazed downward at His maidservant
from whom He had cast seven demons, and who was now weeping in
ecstasy and joy in the Presence of Him whom she had thought stolen
from her forever.
"Do
not cling to Me," he said gently, "for I have not
yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I
am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your
God."
She
looked up at Him at those words, her face imbued with love and
devotion beyond mere speech to describe.
I
turned away then. I could not intrude on so intimate a moment between
the Savior and His beloved.
He
was Resurrected King, and yet Gentle Teacher. Lord of Lords Eternal,
and yet intimate Friend.
In
that momentary glance between that woman headed for death, and the
One who died in her place so she would live, I saw all the purposes
of Heaven from Creation to the Cross.
Had
she been the only one to receive His gift, I believe in my heart He
would have laid down His life for her regardless.
But
she was just the first to see Him whom death could not destroy, nor
grave hold.
And
in loving and simple obedience, she obeyed.
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
